


You Shouldn't Have

by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean being thoughtful, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gift Giving, Masturbation, Not Beta Read, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader-Insert, Sex Toys, Small Smut, Vibrators, could stand to be a little more thoughtful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/pseuds/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier
Summary: Dean got you a gift.  It'sthoughtful.





	You Shouldn't Have

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @torn-and-frayed’s #Winter with Dean Drabble Challenge  
> I got No.3 Opening Gifts. Un-beta’d.  
> I had a word limit on this, which I stuck to on tumblr but have blown it out here.

“You sure it’s warmer in here?”

Dean blinks at the empty fireplace.  “Pretty sure.”

You look at his boots by yours, both of you with legs crossed, staring at the grille because there’s nowhere else to look, no table to share, no window.  There’s a hard bench, some shelves and a small stony fireplace.  A fire hole, really.

A little tuft of snow falls down the short chimney, dusting the cold coals. They look ready for the dessert cabinet.

Dean sighs. “So, ah, don’t think I’m weird, but I brought you a gift.”  He looks you with the news.  He’s still in his winter clothes since neither of you are willing to release the heat you earned getting here just yet.

“It’s Christmas,” you shrug.  “Why would that be weird.?”

“Because I brought it with me _here_.”

“Really? Why?”

“Brain fart.  I was worried about being stuck out here past Christmas, and I’m so sorry, but try not to think about how you carried the food and now you get to replace the weight with this thing.”  He’s shoulder deep in his pack.  “I just- Like, we wouldn’a worried about gifts till after, but it’s your first with us and- _anyway_ -” The parcel is tugged clear and he hands it over.  “Merry Christmas.”

It’s… phallic.

“Thaaanks… Thanks Dean.”  The shape is embarrassing, and you want to be enthusiastic, you do, but…

You glance at him with a smile.  He does nod-and-blink thing in reply.  You unwrap the pink tissue paper, and blink at the vibrator in your hands.  Dean waits for your response.

“Okay, so…” Yes, the words, they’ll come soon.  “This is…” It isn’t even boxed.  “It’s, um…”

“Okay, so before you freak out-”

“ _Before_?”

“You mentioned how much you hesitate to pick up because of the risk.  Jerks, douchebags, assholes, the work, and the- I think you said, _inconsistent and unreliable satisfaction_?”

“Right.”  You did.  You said that.

“Well, this got good reviews.”  He’s hoping that if he doesn’t show any regret, you won’t either.  “And you deserve, you know, consistent and reliable satisfaction.”

“You chose to get me a vibrator?  You researched?”

“Hell yeah!  I’m not blindly grabbing some fuck stick off the shelf for you!!  Although I did unbox it because of the bulk.  Are you mad?”

“What- No, I’m not mad!” You look back down at the thing.  It’s so… big.  And complicated.  “I’m _surprised_ ,” you admit and smile at him with a little shrug.  “It’s a sex toy.”

“It is a sex toy.”  He nods, swallows, keeps looking at it rather than you.  “But I knew you’d never get one for yourself, and I thought… you chose this life, you know?  What if you don’t get the intimacy you deserve?  At least you can look after yourself some with this.”

Somehow, in a world where Angels are dicks and demons allies, this is such a loving, thoughtful gift, so full of care and friendship.

You reach out and squeeze his forearm.  “Thank you.   Really, thank you so much.”

Dean smiles, takes a deep breath and shuffles in his spot to relieve his ass.

“No batteries?”

“You kidding me? I’m not having you buzzin’ away over there.  The batteries are _at home_.”

…

You felt you’d waited the polite amount of time before disappearing, well before the countdown too. It’s New Year’s Eve after all.  If you’re not getting a kiss, an orgasm would be nice.

Very faintly, you hear the Times Square show, baritone voices murmuring occasionally.  You get down to underwear, lay back under the covers and try to take it slow.  You do what feels good, and since it’s the holiday season, you let yourself think of Dean, imagining his fingers knowing what you like.  You make yourself wet.

When you think you’re close to ready, you slide your panties down to your knees…  The thickness is enticing. You try to go slow, draw out the treat, but after the first push you so wish you had someone else to fuck you with it.

It’s not really a thrusting toy, not with the bunny-ears, but you can give it a good shallow shove for friction.  After a while, when you think you’re ready, you turn it on.

You weren’t ready.  You never will be.  When in Hell’s name did any clit ever declare a readiness for this torrent of pleasure?  You arch all the way back, voice climbing up the register like a siren.  It’s so dense with vibrations you can’t tell where anything is anymore, just a racking need for something to harness this feeling and kick it far enough.  Your shaking fingers get a hold on it then, pushing, tilting and that, that- _there_.  It takes every piece of willpower to not retreat, _hold_ it there and see what happens while your pussy and belly are twisted their highest by this constant fucking gift-

“Y/N? You wanna do the countdown?” Dean’s at your door.  You close your eyes tight, draw that tone to your mind, imagine it’s warming your ear while Dean’s hand controls all this.  You’re quite ready for your legs to fall clean off your body.

“You’re missing it.”

Full lips, smooth tongue, strong hands-

“I know you’re up.  Don’t make me come in there! Five! Four!-”

You think of his mouth on your throat, tighten it all and let it all go. “Aaa! Haa fuck!”  And it happens, thighs shuddering, belly ringing.  You think maybe you’ve wet the bed.

“You okay?  Y/N?”

“Hmmm!” You flick the toy out from yourself, tug up your underwear as you scramble onto your side and spider yourself upright to get to the door, ignoring the few baby giraffe moments as you reach out for the handle.

Then Dean’s face to face with your dishevelled self, leaning against the door frame as though you aren't still vibrating now.  "Hey," you smile.

"Youuuu okay?" Dean leans against his side, arms crossed, pretty entertained at your rosy cheeks and mussy hair.  "You uh, you havin' a good dream in there?"

"Um.  U-hum.  Just, ringin' in the New Year."  You're still smiling, lil' drunk on it.

Dean's laughing on the inside and has a bit of a glance into your room as he licks his lips. 

Down the corridor, Sam calls, “You missed the countdown!”

"Yeah, why'd you miss the countdown?" Dean smirks.

"Oh well, I didn't wanna-" Are you puffed? You sound puffed.  "-sit around and not get a kiss on New Year's Eve.  I mean, you know-"

"I woulda kissed you."

"Whaaat? No."   Big frown, still smiling.

"Yeah!  Totally!  I give y'a New Year's kiss!"

"Oh well, that's very kind of you."  You nod and tuck your lips, being cordial.

Dean thinks about it a moment. "You thought that'd be better."

You take a breath to answer, and sorta laugh it out, but it actually presents as a grin with a hum.  You're so stoned.

Dean pushes off from the doorframe and steps forward a bit, let his head sit back on his neck like he's offering a bet.  "You don't think a kiss from me'd be any good?"

"It'd be very fine, I'm sure. I just-"

He thinks, and decides. "Try me."

"What?"

"Happy New Year."

Welp, no time to be rude.  "Alrighty then."

Dean drops his arms and you step up, putting your lips to his, fat and dry.  You tilt it a bit, tasting him a little, and feel him pull your chest to his, then your waist, then he lifts you into it, and your chin follows his lead, dropping for heavy lips to meet again and warm breath falls over you, the wet sounds of it making you frown at hot reality.  It gets shameless, hearty, and you hold onto his arms for your own safety, trying to spot the moment this threatened your friendship.

You open your eyes and find yourself staring past some long eyelashes, straight into his gaze, so pull back an inch or so. “You know-" You clear your throat, and try again.  "They say it's the thought that counts."

"Mmm."

"What exactly were you thinking of?"

Dean looks at you, all gooey and sated in his arms, and grins.  “You.  I was thinkin' about you.”


End file.
